Saturday, November 08, 2003
Charles Maitland Dean
In the fall of 1967, at the age of 15, I went off to St. George's School in Newport, Rhode Island for what turned out to be a very short and terrible attempt at a boarding school education. Coming from a small suburb of a small city in Ohio, I was not prepared for the rarified and stuffy air of the New England prep school. It didn't help that in the previous year I had shot up six inches, my face had broken out like a pizza, I had acquired thick nerd glasses, and I weighed all of 115 pounds. It was a combination for disaster, and it didn't take long for homesickness to set in. Within a month I was miserable, my grades were in the toilet and the other students soon found I was an easy target for the typical boarding school tricks and torture.
The school's student council was made up of prefects elected from each class, and the Senior Prefect, who served as student council president and role model for the students. The Senior Prefect for 1967-1968 was Charley Dean. He was the younger brother of Howard Brush Dean III, Class of 1966. I met Charley when he held a meeting with the freshman class at the beginning of the year and instilled in us a very strong sense of his pride of the school, and his tone was serious. As a senior, he was a god on Olympus, and as the Senior Prefect, he was right up there with Zeus. But he did tell us that if we had any problems or questions we could come to him. None of us, including myself, believed that we were worthy of his attention.
But I was wrong. I don't remember what caused me to end up hunched over a desk in the corner of a classroom - a failed quiz, perhaps - but I do remember that it was a cold, grey, rainy, and miserable afternoon in November, the kind of day only New Englanders can tolerate, and I was thoroughly miserable. I heard voices in the hall. I did not look up, but I know it was a group of seniors passing by, and I hoped they would not see me. One of them was Charley. He must have glanced into the classroom because the next moment he was standing next to my desk, asking what was wrong. I don't know exactly what I told him, but he knew I was homesick and friendless. He patted my shoulder, told me he had felt that way too when he was new, and that he was sure things would work out. "C'mon," he said, "I'll walk you back to the dorm." He did, and on the way he asked where I was from, what sports I liked, and other small talk. He left me on the steps of the dorm, told me not to worry, it'll get better, and feel free to come to him any time. He shook my hand, gave me a grin, and said, "See you around."
That moment of kindness stayed with me for a lot longer than my career lasted at St. George's. I left after that one year, but I never forgot Charley Dean's small gift, and when I heard he was lost in Southeast Asia, I bent my head in prayer and remembrance.
In 2001 I returned to St. George's for what would have been my 30th reunion with my former classmates. I went out of a sense of needing to put that one year of my life in perspective, and in doing so, I found that a lot of the things that shaped my life had been forged in that tumultuous year: learning how to rely on myself, my awareness that spirituality is not limited to a twice-weekly chapel service and thus leading me to the Quakers, the discovery of my love of writing - first as a refuge, then as a source of perspective, and finding that there can be solace in a very small but kind gesture of friendship. And at that reunion, for his 35th, was Governor Dean. I went up to him, shook his hand, introduced myself, and said very simply, "Charley meant a lot to me."
Sounds like presidential material to me. And I know where he got it.
The school's student council was made up of prefects elected from each class, and the Senior Prefect, who served as student council president and role model for the students. The Senior Prefect for 1967-1968 was Charley Dean. He was the younger brother of Howard Brush Dean III, Class of 1966. I met Charley when he held a meeting with the freshman class at the beginning of the year and instilled in us a very strong sense of his pride of the school, and his tone was serious. As a senior, he was a god on Olympus, and as the Senior Prefect, he was right up there with Zeus. But he did tell us that if we had any problems or questions we could come to him. None of us, including myself, believed that we were worthy of his attention.
But I was wrong. I don't remember what caused me to end up hunched over a desk in the corner of a classroom - a failed quiz, perhaps - but I do remember that it was a cold, grey, rainy, and miserable afternoon in November, the kind of day only New Englanders can tolerate, and I was thoroughly miserable. I heard voices in the hall. I did not look up, but I know it was a group of seniors passing by, and I hoped they would not see me. One of them was Charley. He must have glanced into the classroom because the next moment he was standing next to my desk, asking what was wrong. I don't know exactly what I told him, but he knew I was homesick and friendless. He patted my shoulder, told me he had felt that way too when he was new, and that he was sure things would work out. "C'mon," he said, "I'll walk you back to the dorm." He did, and on the way he asked where I was from, what sports I liked, and other small talk. He left me on the steps of the dorm, told me not to worry, it'll get better, and feel free to come to him any time. He shook my hand, gave me a grin, and said, "See you around."
That moment of kindness stayed with me for a lot longer than my career lasted at St. George's. I left after that one year, but I never forgot Charley Dean's small gift, and when I heard he was lost in Southeast Asia, I bent my head in prayer and remembrance.
In 2001 I returned to St. George's for what would have been my 30th reunion with my former classmates. I went out of a sense of needing to put that one year of my life in perspective, and in doing so, I found that a lot of the things that shaped my life had been forged in that tumultuous year: learning how to rely on myself, my awareness that spirituality is not limited to a twice-weekly chapel service and thus leading me to the Quakers, the discovery of my love of writing - first as a refuge, then as a source of perspective, and finding that there can be solace in a very small but kind gesture of friendship. And at that reunion, for his 35th, was Governor Dean. I went up to him, shook his hand, introduced myself, and said very simply, "Charley meant a lot to me."
To talk about Charley Dean's merits as Senior Prefect is to belabor the obvious. His election bespeaks his popularity, his handling of the post to bring about more student privileges bespeaks his acuity, his rapport with both faculty and lower forms [classes] evidences his diplomacy, and his many extracurricular activities witness his multiplicity.... He circulates, assimilates, manipulates. He is as ready to chew the fat as to chew someone out, yet his authority is so inherent that he uses it with more forethought than furor. Charley is no solon; he tells as many bad jokes as the rest of us. In fact, he is as human and easy going as a Senior Prefect is allowed to be while still keeping the school out of dire peril. - The Lance, 1968, (St. George's School yearbook)
Sounds like presidential material to me. And I know where he got it.
That's A Relief
According to David Brooks, internet dating is okay.
Y'know, I've been worried that maybe it would be yet another thing for the right wing to demonize - yet another way to dehumanize and cheapen human contact or some such - but apparently since Rush Limbaugh met his current wife on a bulletin board and Andrew Sullivan probably hosts a Bears chatroom, it's cool.
But have they run it by Ashcroft to see if there might be some terrorists hiding out in the Yahoo Personals, masquerading as a 16 year old girl who likes John Mayer, Beyonce, and has a crush on Benjamin McKenzie from The O.C.?
Y'know, I've been worried that maybe it would be yet another thing for the right wing to demonize - yet another way to dehumanize and cheapen human contact or some such - but apparently since Rush Limbaugh met his current wife on a bulletin board and Andrew Sullivan probably hosts a Bears chatroom, it's cool.
But have they run it by Ashcroft to see if there might be some terrorists hiding out in the Yahoo Personals, masquerading as a 16 year old girl who likes John Mayer, Beyonce, and has a crush on Benjamin McKenzie from The O.C.?
Free Trade Alliance of the Americas
The Free Trade Alliance of the Americas is scheduled to take place in Miami from November 17-21. Like the WTO meeting in Seattle in 1999, a large variety of groups from labor unions to "anarchists" are planning to protest the meetings and, according to press reports, do anything to disrupt the proceedings. I work in an office in downtown Miami that is about twenty blocks north of the meeting site, but just in case, the Miami-Dade County School Board has decided to close its downtown operations and board up the two School Board Administration buildings. (Apparently millions of nuts and bolts have been purchased by some groups to use as projectiles.) The school board employees have been offered the choice of taking the four days off as vacation or personal time, or being re-assigned to offices or school sites outside of the downtown area.
I have no strong views in the area of "Free Trade" - I frankly don't know enough about it to form an opinion. I'd welcome some input on it from both sides, and as we get closer to the meeting, I'll see what I can link from informed sites. I'll also try to give you a day-to-day report on what happens. I have elected to be re-assigned to another office rather than take the time off (not that I'm so nobly dedicated... well, I am, but I also need to save my vacation time). So, let's hear some discussion about FTAA, and stay tuned.
I have no strong views in the area of "Free Trade" - I frankly don't know enough about it to form an opinion. I'd welcome some input on it from both sides, and as we get closer to the meeting, I'll see what I can link from informed sites. I'll also try to give you a day-to-day report on what happens. I have elected to be re-assigned to another office rather than take the time off (not that I'm so nobly dedicated... well, I am, but I also need to save my vacation time). So, let's hear some discussion about FTAA, and stay tuned.
And We're Off
Okay, now that I've got this thing figured out (or will as I go), let's get some basics out of the way:
1. George W. Bush may not be an idiot, but he plays one on TV.
2. Howard Dean may not be the slam-dunk winner of the Democratic nomination, and he may have a rough time against Bush in the general election, but by God, he sure gets me fired up - I haven't felt this pepped up about a Democratic candidate since Bobby Kennedy. (I have a personal connection with Gov. Dean that I will share in a later post. I promise.)
3. Karl Rove is the most dangerous man in America, even before John Ashcroft and Antonin Scalia. Why? Because the only person he's responsible to is the man who owes his political life to him, and therefore is powerless to control him.
4. People who call AM radio talk shows and get on the air should automatically lose their right to vote. (So should people who watch "pro wrestling," but let's not go there.)
5. I've always wondered why right-wingers who scream about "big guvamint" getting involved in every little aspect of their lives have such an obsession with other people's morals, sexual orientation, and reproductive systems.
6. People with Jesus fish and other religious paraphenalia on their car bumpers are the most arrogant drivers on the road. It's like God told them it was okay to cut other people off without using a turn signal.
7. The best way to get rid of a telemarketer is to ask them what they are wearing.
8. I have had residency in Ohio, Michigan (twice), Rhode Island, Florida (twice), Indiana, Colorado, California, and New Mexico (twice). They all have very different weather patterns, but the common saying is, "If you don't like the weather here, wait ten minutes." No wonder The Weather Channel is so popular.
9. The difference between genius and stupidity is that genius has its limits. (This blog may yet prove that theory...)
10. Trolls are hereby warned that I will do the same for them that NTodd does - so thanks in advance for the support for the Dean candidacy.
Any questions?
1. George W. Bush may not be an idiot, but he plays one on TV.
2. Howard Dean may not be the slam-dunk winner of the Democratic nomination, and he may have a rough time against Bush in the general election, but by God, he sure gets me fired up - I haven't felt this pepped up about a Democratic candidate since Bobby Kennedy. (I have a personal connection with Gov. Dean that I will share in a later post. I promise.)
3. Karl Rove is the most dangerous man in America, even before John Ashcroft and Antonin Scalia. Why? Because the only person he's responsible to is the man who owes his political life to him, and therefore is powerless to control him.
4. People who call AM radio talk shows and get on the air should automatically lose their right to vote. (So should people who watch "pro wrestling," but let's not go there.)
5. I've always wondered why right-wingers who scream about "big guvamint" getting involved in every little aspect of their lives have such an obsession with other people's morals, sexual orientation, and reproductive systems.
6. People with Jesus fish and other religious paraphenalia on their car bumpers are the most arrogant drivers on the road. It's like God told them it was okay to cut other people off without using a turn signal.
7. The best way to get rid of a telemarketer is to ask them what they are wearing.
8. I have had residency in Ohio, Michigan (twice), Rhode Island, Florida (twice), Indiana, Colorado, California, and New Mexico (twice). They all have very different weather patterns, but the common saying is, "If you don't like the weather here, wait ten minutes." No wonder The Weather Channel is so popular.
9. The difference between genius and stupidity is that genius has its limits. (This blog may yet prove that theory...)
10. Trolls are hereby warned that I will do the same for them that NTodd does - so thanks in advance for the support for the Dean candidacy.
Any questions?
Here Goes...
Welcome to Bark Bark Woof Woof, a blog dedicated to my take on life, the universe and everything, hopefully with my special sense of dry amusement. The title comes from a guy I once worked for who said "bark bark woof woof" instead of "et cetera, et cetera," and in memory of my dog, Sam, who was my best friend for 13 years.
I'm moderate-to-liberal gay man with a long background in theatre studies, specifically playwriting and dramatic literature, who also likes to write novels and short stories. I live in Miami, Florida and work for the public school system. Other interests include antique cars (station wagons and Mustangs) and weightlifting. (Gee, this is beginning to sound like a personal ad, but hey, I'm single, early 50's, of Welsh ancestry, in good shape, have a decent income, don't drink or smoke.)
I welcome your comments, and look forward to the contributions to enrich this blog - I sure can't carry it alone. And I aspire to the likes of Dohiyi Mir and other members of The Liberal Coalition, although I have a feeling I'll just be an understudy to some of them.
And no, Bobby is not my real name. He's the main character in my current novel-in-progress; like me, he's an optimistic but wary guy just trying to get through life without bumping into the furniture.
I'm moderate-to-liberal gay man with a long background in theatre studies, specifically playwriting and dramatic literature, who also likes to write novels and short stories. I live in Miami, Florida and work for the public school system. Other interests include antique cars (station wagons and Mustangs) and weightlifting. (Gee, this is beginning to sound like a personal ad, but hey, I'm single, early 50's, of Welsh ancestry, in good shape, have a decent income, don't drink or smoke.)
I welcome your comments, and look forward to the contributions to enrich this blog - I sure can't carry it alone. And I aspire to the likes of Dohiyi Mir and other members of The Liberal Coalition, although I have a feeling I'll just be an understudy to some of them.
And no, Bobby is not my real name. He's the main character in my current novel-in-progress; like me, he's an optimistic but wary guy just trying to get through life without bumping into the furniture.
